As the traveller proceeds northward, the circular form of the tombs is less common and they become more varied in their appearance. In Chusan, Ningpo, and various other places in that district, a great number of the coffins are placed on the surface of the ground and merely thatched over with straw. I met with these coffins in all sorts of places,—on the sides of the public highway—on the banks of the rivers and canals—and in woods and other retired parts of the country. Sometimes the thatch was completely off, the wood rotten, and the remains of the Chinamen of former days exposed to view. On one hill side on the island of Chusan, skulls and bones are lying about in all directions, and more than once when wandering through the long brushwood in this place, I have been entangled by getting my feet through the lid of a coffin.
Tombs on the Island of Chusan.
I believe that the wealthy in these districts generally bury their dead, and some of them build very chaste and beautiful tombs. There are three or four very fine ones in the island of Chusan, where the paving in front of the mound which contains the body is beautiful, and the carving elaborate; the whole of the stone-work is square, instead of circular as in the tombs in the south of China. Here, as at home—and I believe in every part of the world—trees of the pine tribe are generally planted in the burying-grounds. Lord Jocelyn, in his "Campaign in China," mentions such places in the following beautiful and appropriate language:—"Here and there, as if dropped at random upon the sides of the hills, were clumps of pine trees, and peeping through their thick foliage, the roofs of houses and temples diversified the scene. Amongst many of the beautiful groves of trees which here invite the wanderer to repose, spots are selected as the resting-places of mortality; and gazing on those tranquil scenes, where the sweet clematis and fragrant flowers help to decorate the last home of man, the most careless eye cannot fail to mark the beauties of the grave."
In the Shanghae district I have frequently visited large houses which seem to have been built by the rich expressly as mausoleums. In these houses I generally found a coffin in one of the principal rooms, and an altar, with all the trappings of idolatry, where incense on high days is burned to the memory of the deceased, and various other ceremonies are gone through by the relatives. These houses or temples are generally surrounded by a pine wood, and sometimes the body is buried out of doors—the altar and records only being kept in the temple, where a servant with his family is always placed to look after them.
When the English first established themselves at Shanghae, some of them had thoughts of taking houses in the country that their families might enjoy retirement and fresh air. One day towards the end of 1843, I accompanied a gentleman of my acquaintance on an errand of this kind. When we had proceeded about six or eight miles from Shanghae, we observed a good-looking house in a wood hard by, and determined to pay it a visit and see whether the occupant would be inclined to let it. As we drew near, all was still and quiet; not even our old enemies, the dogs, appeared to dispute our approach. When the Chinese,—who always followed us in considerable numbers wherever we went—saw us approaching the house, they stood still at a little distance, watching our proceedings with a great degree of interest. We knocked at the door of the mansion, and then stood at one side so that the porter might not see that his visitors were the Hong-mou-jins, or red-haired race, as they are pleased to call the English; for we well knew that if we were seen, the door would not be opened. In a few seconds we heard the sounds of feet, and then a voice summoned us to know our business. We mumbled something in Chinese, and the poor man, quite unconscious of his danger, threw open the door. I shall never forget the look of mingled fear and astonishment which he gave us as we quietly walked into the court; at the same time the group of natives outside were indulging in hearty laughter at the way in which he had been entrapped.
The court-yard, where we now were, was neatly paved, and the whole of the house appeared to be in excellent repair. As we were led from room to room by our terrified guide, every thing appeared quite suitable for a country residence, at least, as good as one could expect in such an out-of-the-way place, and my friend remarked that it was the best he had yet seen, and that he should certainly make an effort to get possession of it. At last we came to what appeared the principal room: "Ah, this shall be my drawing-room," said my companion, "but what is that?" added he in the same breath. I looked in the direction in which he pointed, and a large massive coffin met my eye. We then discovered that we were in one of those places set apart for the remains of the dead.